Rejections. We all hate them. But what’s the best way deal with them?
I love to go all badass when I get one. We have a punching bag in the basement, so I crank the music up, don my boxing gloves, and go crazy (kicks included). No, I don’t imagine I’m beating up the agent who sent me the rejection. Instead, I’m saving the world from evil. I’m like a hot, badass paranormal heroine. (When I say ‘hot’, I mean sweaty).
By the time I’m finished, I’ve forgotten about the rejection and have burned tons of calories. And if I’m really lucky, I might have brainstormed a solution (if the agent gave me specific feedback). But the best part is, I feel awesome!
If you’re a writer, rejection is a nasty word you can’t avoid. Well, I guess you can if you never query. But if you hoped to be published, it’s something you’ll eventually have to face.
A rejection isn’t bad or evil. It tells you something. Maybe your writing isn’t there yet. Maybe the story just didn’t excite that agent or editor. Maybe one of the agent’s clients recently wrote a book with a similar premise. Yes, the rejection might sting. But it won’t kill you.
As writers, we tend to get too caught up in the rejections. We easily forget there are bigger things in life that are more important. My first born son (who turns twelve next month) was three months premature. Do you know what it feels like to watch something so frail cling to life? On Monday afternoon, my youngest two kids were on their school bus when it was involved in an accident (above photo). All thirty kids were okay, although many were shaken. The driver suffered minor injuries. But the photos and my crying daughter affected me in a way no rejection ever will.
Before you start querying, make a list of ten or more things that have happened to you that are worse than a rejection (or things that would be worse than a rejection). Post it by your computer. Next time you get a rejection, put it into perspective by reflecting on your list. Only then will you see it for what it really is: a small blip in your writing career.
When it comes to grabbing the reader’s attention, a great first page is vital. With agents, if they don’t make it past the first page, well, you know what happens.
With my current WIP (YA contemporary), I knew there was something not quite right about the beginning. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. It had voice, but there was no real connection with the main character. I knew it needed something more, but what?
Then I heard that agents Joanna Volpe and Suzie Townsend are critiquing the first 250 words of volunteers’ novels and posting the feedback on their blog, Confessions From Suite 500. The one rule: You have to study the first page of several novels from your genre. Great. That sounded simple enough.
Four hours later, and a huge stack of novels on my floor, I had studied the first two paragraphs of 38 YA contemporary novels, 15 YA paranormal novels, and 16 winning YA entries from past MSFV Secret agent contests. I compiled the data into tables (did I tell you I’m analytical?) and indicated which first two paragraphs hooked me. Based on the results, I came to this startling conclusion:
The first two paragraphs that made me want to read more involved a combination of introspection and action.
When I say action, I’m talking maybe a sentence or two just to break up the introspection, and it wasn’t big action. And, of course, the introspection wasn’t rambling or long. It got to the point within the first paragraph and was loaded with voice.
My findings also supported what Donald Maass wrote in his Writing The Breakout Novel Workbook. In his workshops , he has the participants read their first lines. After each line is read, the participants put up their hand if they would keep reading:
“Weather effects, descriptions, and scene setting never get a strong response. Neither does plain action—unless there is something puzzling about it. The best first lines make us lean forward, wondering, What the heck does that mean?”
Now remember, these results are based on the beginnings that hooked me. Try this exercise for yourself and see what kinds of openings appeal to you the most. You might be surprised.
(Edit: I've had requests for me to publish the tables. Just click on this link if you want to see them.)
Eleven years ago yesterday, my first born son barged into the world, weighing only 2 lbs 3 oz. Eager to join my husband and me for Christmas, he was born thirteen weeks premature. This is a picture of him when he was nine days old. He had just come off the ventilator, and this was the first time I got to hold him. Even a request for a full or partial doesn’t come close to how I felt that day.
For ten weeks, while he was in the NICU, I tried to remain optimistic, praying he wouldn’t become a mortality statistic like so many other babies there. With determination, and the miracles of modern medicine, he grew stronger and bigger, though not without a number of setbacks along the way.
The experience didn’t leave him without a mark, but he tries hard not to let it stand in his way. And even though he struggles big time with sports, he works hard at gymnastics and dreams of being a ballroom dancer one day. Yep, So You Think You Can Dance had something to do with that.
As everyone knows, rejections are painful. But they’re nothing like watching your baby cling to life, watching your friends’ babies die, learning medical terminology only NICU staff should know, and wondering ‘what if.’
So, happy birthday my miracle child, and thank you for teaching me what’s really important in life.
I’m going to tell you a secret. I’m a huge fan of So You Think You Can Dance Canada? During season three (which ended last month), it dawned on me just how much we writers can learn from the show.
1. Don’t be afraid to try new genres: During his audition, super sexy Denys Drozdyuk wowed the judges by not only performing the Paso Doble on his own (something unheard of since it’s most definitely a partner dance), he combined it with a touch of contemporary dance.
All twenty-two dancers selected for the show had to learn and perform dance styles they had never studied before (contemporary, jazz, ballroom, hip hop, Latin dance). The dancers only had a few days to learn the routine, yet all did an amazing job.
As writers, we should push ourselves to try (or at least read) different genres, and see how aspects of them might combine to produce something even more exciting. You might even develop a new trend. Isn’t that what we all want? To be on top of a trend instead of racing behind it, especially since the latter is never recommended.
2. Bring out the emotion: At the end of each performance, the dance partners listened—sweat dripping down their faces, hearts pounding from the gruelling routine—as the judges critique the dance. Often the dancers were told to dig deep and pull out that raw emotion, which will take them to the next level. Those who managed to do that went far in the competition. There were a few dances that left the judges in tears because of the emotional connection they felt with the dancer and the performance (not to mention the subject matter).
Same deal with writers. In order for the reader to connect with our characters, we need to dig deep and bring our characters’ emotions to life on the page. It’s not easy at times. Sometimes we’re crying over what we just put them through (Or is that just me?). But it’s essential if we want to get to the next level: gaining an agent or landing a book contract.
3. You owned that dance: Each dancer had his or her own style (e.g. wild, kooky, etc). The successful dancers applied that to their routines and the judges took notice. This style made those dancers memorable. Very important during the competition.
Okay, writers. I have only one word for you: Voice!
4. Don’t give up because you were rejected: Tara-Jean Popowich auditioned for the first season of the show but never made it to the top twenty. She went home and did everything she could to become a better dancer. Her hard work and determination paid off. Not only did she make it to the show for season two. She won the position of Canada’s favorite dancer.
Like dancers, writers deal with rejections All The Time. It’s part of the package. But instead of bemoaning the unfairness of it all, take the rejection and use it to make your writing and/or story better. Maybe you need a crit group (or a different one). Maybe you need to enrol in a writing class to hone your skill some more. Do whatever it takes to push your writing to the next level.
5. Embrace the critique: Winner Denys Drozdyuk couldn’t have said it better on the final show when he told the judges that praise is great, but the critiques were what had made him a better dancer. What more can I say?
It was amazing watching the show and seeing how much dance has in common with writing fiction. Both require determination, passion, skill, and the ability to tell a story. Do you have all of these requirements? Is there something you need to work on some more?
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I'm the guest blogger today on the Query Tracker Blog. The topic? The wicked truths about writing edgy YA novels. I'd love it if you zipped over to say, "Hi!"
Dear friends, has this ever happened to you? You open your inbox, and low and behold, the moment you’ve been obsessing fantasizing about has finally come. Your dream agent has responded to your query. With trembling hands, you open that much hoped for reply.
DEAR AUTHOR,
THANK YOU FOR THINKING ABOUT ME FOR YOUR PROJECT (fill in title here). ALTHOUGH YOUR PROJECT SOUNDS INTERESTING, I REGRET TO SAY THAT I DON’T FEEL THAT I’M THE MOST APPROPRIATE AGENT FOR YOUR WORK. YA DA. YA DA.
HURTS RIGHT?
Now, what if they added this dude to the form rejection first . . .
Wouldn’t that take the sting out of the rejection?
I mean, how could you possible feel BAD after seeing him dance on your screen?
